


the tender beating of your heart

by jasminetea



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Werewolf!Hannibal Lecter, pre-courtship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-16 23:05:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15447828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasminetea/pseuds/jasminetea
Summary: Will just wants to be left alone by the community, Jack wants an expert, and Hannibal just wants a chance to court him.





	the tender beating of your heart

**Author's Note:**

> Written awhile ago. This was supposed to be werewolf!Hannibal courting Will via the usual like food, trinkets, providing for him, etc. This is the prelude to that.
> 
> This fic is complete.

Will has always liked dogs.  He worked to earn the trust of the pack he has and continues to learn more about them with every day.

His knowledge about the community however, was something he’d never wanted, never really applied himself to, and yet he’d found himself with an intrinsic understanding of something he never wanted.

It’d become apparent at a young age that he knew things about the shifters, the vampires, the spirits and fairies and things he had no name for, that was not common knowledge even to their own.  He quickly realized he needed to keep his observations to himself, but the damage had been done, and the community loved gossip.  Word about the boy living deep in the south traveled quickly, and his parents became the half-hearted gatekeepers to his knowledge as members of the community were drawn to him for answers.

One of the reasons he’d moved to Wolf Trap was because of its long history of intolerance for shifters.  The shifters in particular, had always been taken by him, but Will had always preferred dogs.  He’d hoped Wolf Trap’s reputation would keep them away from him, and for many years it had.  He built as much of a life as he could, teaching a course on community crimes for the FBI.  The community kept out of his life this way, and he stayed out of theirs.

Jack Crawford brings all that to an end.  “I heard,” he begins very slowly, “that there was a very small boy who knew more about monsters than he should’ve.  I imagine,” he says drawing closer to Will, “that he would be around your age now.”

And like that, Will knows his peaceful years are over.

* * *

It’s easier to think of things that way, as a clear moment when Will crossed over from some semblance of normalcy to returning in some odd manner to the community he was not quite a part of.  The truth is, strange things had always happened around him, and Will had made it a point to not think too hard on them.

Some mornings he wakes up, finding the dogs huddled together and oddly silent.  He opens his front porch and finds small offerings left for him.  He knows he should be worried, but he feeds the scraps to his dogs, even if he has to coax them out of their fear with the lure of hand feeding.

When he begins working for Jack, the offerings begin showing up on Will’s kitchen table and the dogs stare at him.  “Thanks, but no thanks,” he mumbles to himself.  He very carefully takes the raw meat outside and leaves it there.

Even though he washes his hands of the blood, Hannibal makes note of it when they first meet.

“Your hands smell of blood,” he remarks.

Scowling, he looks to Jack. “Who is he here to analyze?”

Hannibal inclines his head. “It is not an indictment, merely an observation. My sense of smell is very acute. Like a bloodhound I’ve been told.”

Will is not so easily disarmed as that.

* * *

He is not, however, so petty as to turn down food when offered to him.  Perhaps it’s a holdover from his youth, or maybe it’s his inability to remember to cook.  But in that drearily lit room, Hannibal takes out two sealed glass containers and Will accepts them.

Instead of sliding the containers across the small wooden table, Hannibal takes care to hand it to him.  Will finds this an odd trait, but takes it, pops the lid open and digs in.

“It’s good,” Will tells him grudgingly.

It’s hard to discern Hannibal’s expression, his face reveals very little, but Will feels something like sharp satisfaction from him.  Unsure what to make of this, or if he even imagined it, Will sets this information aside and continues eating.


End file.
